


Spaghetti Girl

by KurlyFrasier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Jealous, Jealous Dean Winchester, Multiple Sclerosis, Neuromuscular Disease, Worried Dean Winchester, Worried!Dean, Worry, jealous!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KurlyFrasier/pseuds/KurlyFrasier
Summary: Dean discovers y/n is leaving almost the instant he finally decides to show her he cares for her.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Truths

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay, so I realize I suck at summaries. If you can come up with something better, I will replace it! :)
> 
> They've discovered angels exist and Castiel is on their side. Other than that, there's no particular timeline.
> 
> ~I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

You were a nerd. A total, complete, full-on nerd. As bad as Sam. Maybe even more so. He could barely keep up with what you guys were talking about. Some book? A show, maybe? Dean didn't know for certain. What he did know is that he wished you would talk to him about it. Share your joy with him, not his brother. He even started reading a book you had mentioned to Sam last night.  _ A Walk To Remember _ . He knew it wasn't your favorite book, but he also knew it was the only book you liked by- whatever the guy's name was. When Dean had gotten to the point where the male lead found out his girlfriend was sick, he slammed the book shut and raised it as if to throw it across the room when he remembered he had  _ borrowed  _ it from you. He set it beside him to glare daggers at it instead.

What if it was you who was sick? What if you knew you were dying but weren’t telling him? Dean's eyes started to blur. In this life- a hunter’s life- you could die any second. What if he never gets to tell you how much you mean to him? What if he never gets to spoil you like you deserve? What if- 

That was it. Tomorrow he was going to start spoiling you. Tomorrow you would know how important you are to him. 

Well, it was tomorrow night and nothing had changed. You and Sam had your heads together whispering about who knows what while he sat on the other side of the room, fists clenched, eyes green with envy. Sam and you didn't even  _ like _ each other. You were too similar, Sam said. Saw each other as siblings, Sam said. Does that mean you see him the same way? Just a brother? Apparently the annoying brother 'cause you barely ever look at him. He would know. All he ever does is look at you. That did it. You were going to start paying attention to him and you were going to start now. 

"Guys," Dean cleared his throat after no response and spoke louder, more demanding. "Guys!"

Both of you jumped. Sam looked annoyed while you just stared stunned. 

"You hungry? I was thinking of-"

"Oh, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about dinner. I was gonna start it in a few, but if you guys are hungry I can-" you started to get up.

"No," Dean almost shouted. "I mean-uh, I wanted to make you-I mean... I wanted to make you  _ guys  _ spaghetti. Yeah." Dean didn't give either of you a chance to respond before walking out of the room. 

"That was weird, right?" You asked Sam. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen him cook since I met you guys."

"Yeah… Usually he just grabs us greasy burgers and beer," you both eye each other. "I'll go check on him."

"That's probably best."

The clanking of pots and pans could be heard as Sam strode closer to the kitchen. "Dean," no response. "Dean," he said a little louder. Still no response. "Dean!"

"Ah-" Dean jumped in surprise, which was unusual in itself. “What!”

“Is...everything okay?” Sam asked cautiously, not sure what was going on in his brother’s head.

“Yeah man, everything’s fine. Just tryin’ to remember where the stuff for spaghetti is, that’s all.”

“Okay, except you haven’t cooked anything since y/n’s been around. Heck you didn’t even cook before that. You made cereal and sandwiches.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean was unsure how to go about telling Sam. Did he even want Sam to know? Could- would Sam help? “What’s your point Sam.”

“My point.  _ Dean _ . Is that you’re acting strange. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothin’. Just thought I’d be nice for once.”

“For once?” Sam paused and took a step closer. “Dean, you save lives. Almost every day. That’s more than nice.”

Dean sucked in a breath, turned the stove to boil, and turned around. Facing his brother head on.  _ Here goes nothing. _ “Not hers,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Sam’s face scrunched in confusion, wondering if he heard correctly.  _ Her? _ Then it dawned on him. Eyes wide, he spouted, pointing reflexively in the direction of the war room. “You mean  _ y/n? _ ”

“Maybe,” Dean looked away. This wasn’t going quite how he had hoped. Not that he knew what he hoped for.

“Wait. Wait wait wait. Let me ask you something. Did you  _ know  _ spaghetti is her favorite?”

“Is it? I mean, I just thought it was easy to make, you know? Boil water, heat up a can of sauce, add meat-”

“You did know!” Sam beamed. He had finally caught his brother out. He could barely believe it. Dean  _ liked  _ you. No. Like was too small of a word and he knew it in his gut. He had more than a crush on you if he was making your favorite meal. It meant he’d been paying profuse attention to you. Then another thought popped in his head. “You have her book, don’t you. I bet you even read it.”

“Now Sam,” Dean’s head shot up. “Don’t go accusing me of  _ reading _ . I have a reputation to uphold.”

“You did. You read it.”

“Not all of it,” he muttered.

“She’s been looking for it all morning. She thinks she lost it. You should go tell her where it is. She’d appreciate it.” Sam smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’ll give it back to her tomorrow.” Dean turned back to the stove, attempting to stave off the conversation.

“So you’re just going to let her think she lost it on a hunt until it magically reappears tomorrow? Dean. That’s the opposite of thoughtful.”

“I don’t want her to know I read it, okay.”

“Why not?”

“I was gonna… you know… bring it up in conversation,” Dean shrugged, like talking books was a normal, everyday thing for him.

“Dean.” Sam paused, he had to attempt to be tactful about this. Apparently his brother was sensitive about you. “If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, then maybe you could at least admit the spaghetti was for her. Or maybe- I don’t know- have a conversation about something you both enjoy. Maybe even ask her to help you cook-”

“I can cook, okay. And that’s the point of reading the book. Conversation.” Dean said, his back still turned to his brother, now adding noodles to the boiling water and meat to the pan he’d be adding sauce to. His homemade sauce. The sauce their father had taught them to make. The sauce he made at 3am that morning.

“Okay...Dean, there’s obviously something else on your mind-”

“Yeah, where’s the mushrooms. She loves mushrooms.”

“Cabinet on your right.” Sam didn’t even want to know how he knew you liked mushrooms. “Now tell me, what’s really going through your head. Why are you suddenly trying to get her attention?”

“It’s not sudden.”

“It is to us!” Sam was exasperated. Sometimes Dean could really make him want to punch something for no good reason. Tact and patience were officially out the window. “You’ve barely talked to her since we’ve met her! You always have her go with me when we separate on hunts. You put her in separate rooms from us at motels. You never let her go get the food when we’re out, or groceries for here for that matter. You won’t even voluntarily go near her. What has happened in the last 24 hours for you to suddenly make her spaghetti?”

“Because I don’t know what to say! I don’t want her to get hurt! What if I get distracted worrying about her if we partner up on hunts and I slip up! I don’t want to see those beautiful y/e/c eyes tear up if something bad happens! It would break my heart. What if someone grabs her while we’re sitting around in the motel, or here, while she’s getting groceries! Every time we’re in the same room I can’t help but want to kiss those pretty lips, touch that pretty hair, grab that sexy ass, hug her so tight,” his voice trailed off, sounding defeated. “What if she was sick? Huh, Sam? What then? Then I realized, in this life she could die any second. I don’t want to waste it, but I don’t know where to start. I just want to spoil her like she deserves.”

Sam cleared his throat, eyes glancing anywhere but at Dean. A sad attempt at shaking off the shock and the fact that Dean doesn’t know. Granted, he had just found out himself that morning.

“What is it?” Dean asked, eyes squinting in suspicion. He could always tell when Sam was hiding something. He claimed it was a big brother thing when they were kids.

“What? Um, nothing. Why? I’m just shocked, that’s all-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, little brother. You,” he shoved a finger in Sam’s chest. “Know. Something. Tell me now or so help me-”

“She  _ is  _ sick, Dean.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam,” he growled out.

“I’m not lying. She has MS. Multiple Sclerosis. It’s a-”

“I know what it is Sam!” Dean’s chest heaved. Everything turned red. His mouth clenched shut, fists closed. Heavy footsteps sent him searching for you before he even knew where he was going. “Watch the food,” he demanded over his shoulder.

Why hadn’t you told him? You could’ve had an attack at any moment. What if you were in the middle of fighting a vampire, werewolf, skinwalker, your regular everyday creep-  _ anything-  _ and suddenly your body didn’t do what it was told. You could have died!

He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he caught you dancing with your headphones on.  _ What were you listening to? _ The world got its color back, his breathing became more even, and his fists relaxed as a small smile played at his lips.  _ What was he going to do with you? _


	2. Lies & Goodbyes

You had no idea Dean had a tender smile playing on his lips as he watched you dance. If one could really call it dancing. But it was good exercise and ten times more fun than your everyday workout routine your doctor had you on in an attempt to keep your symptoms down. 

Speaking of which, you would have to tell the boys you needed to split for a couple of weeks to go for your check-up, refill your meds, and probably get your yearly MRI done. The thought had you unknowingly stop dancing mid-song, a frown marred your features. How would you go about telling Dean you suddenly had to leave? You had no family, none who were blood related, anyway. They were the only hunters you really knew, so you couldn’t claim you were visiting another hunter. Maybe you could tell him you found a simple case. No need for them to come along. Maybe you could slip away. It’s not like Dean would really notice. He had made it clear he doesn’t like you anyway. 

Snapping your fingers, you strode out of the room, deciding that you’d tell Sam you would be gone for a couple of weeks and slip away that night with Dean none the wiser. _Perfect!_ Then Sam could tell Dean you had to leave for whatever reason. That was, if he even noticed you were gone. For now, you would pack and find Sam.

Packing took less than ten minutes. You had decided to only take the essentials, a couple of books, and your trusty weapons duffell that barely left your side- just in case. You decided not to worry about your missing Nicholas Sparks book. You could always buy another one anyway. Sam, on the other hand, took a few minutes to find. When you did find him, you were surprised to see him in the kitchen. Alone.

“I thought Dean was making dinner?” You asked, slowly stepping into the room, eyes roaming for Dean, worried he would pop out any second and ask questions you didn’t want to answer. There was no way you could lie through one of his interrogations. The mouthwatering aroma of beef and red sauce didn’t even penetrate your senses, you were so nervous.

“Uh, he was,” Sam looked over his shoulder and continued when he didn’t see Dean with you. “He is, really. He had to step out for a sec. Looks like he made our famous Winchester Pasta Sauce too,” he smiled. Maybe he could help his brother out a little. He did seem a bit desperate earlier.

“Oh good. About him stepping out, I mean. And the sauce. Sounds delicious,” you babbled. Taking a deep breath, you continued. “Anyway, Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“I gotta leave tonight. I, uh, have someplace I have to be. Is it okay if I leave most of my stuff here?”

“Yeah that’s fine. Y/n, you know you’re welcome anytime and that room will always be yours, right? You’ve been here for several months now. I was hoping you were thinking of this place as your home.”

“Yeah, yeah. It is. I just wanted to make sure, thanks.” You hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions as you awkwardly stood there, rubbing your hands up and down your hips. A sad attempt at wiping the sweat off your clammy palms. That happened when you were nervous… or lying. Or anytime you felt distressed, really.

“So, where are you going?”

“Denver,” you lied. You were actually going to St. Louis, but you didn’t want Sam to have to lie to Dean. This way if he asks or goes looking for you -which would happen with your luck- Dean won’t find out what’s really going on. Then he’ll never know about your neuromuscular problem and you’ll be able to continue hunting with them. You knew it was stupid, really. You knew hunting wasn’t the smartest thing to be doing with your disease. Not smart at all actually, but you felt like you were really helping people and that felt _good_. Nothing was going to keep you from ganking creeps and killers if you had any say in the matter. Not even the Winchesters. Luckily you caught the disease early on, so for now, your symptoms haven’t completely disabled you. Make things difficult? Yes. But you haven’t gotten to the point where your limbs don’t listen at all.

“So, why Denver?” 

“Change of scenery,” you shrugged. “I like the Rockies. It’ll be a nice vacation and Dean won’t have to be on his toes around me all the time.”

“I don’t think Dean minds having you around, y/n.”

“It’s okay, Sam, really. Some people just don’t click, ya know?” Even though you had wished that Dean _would_ notice you. Or at least talk to you. Or that you would grow on him over time, like asparagus. Nobody really likes asparagus the first few times they try them.

“You gonna leave after dinner?”

“Yeah, tonight. After you guys go to bed.”

“No goodbye, huh?” Sam chuckled.

“This is my goodbye, Tallboy,” you smacked him playfully on the arm. “I just figured Dean isn’t going to care one way or the other. So instead of making him wish me luck and say goodbye, I’ll just slip out.” You smiled sadly. You think Dean and yourself would get along well if he gave you the chance. You both love classic rock and you’re both great hunters. He always makes you laugh when he deigns to tell jokes in front of you. Not that he ever tells you the jokes. “Besides,” you continued, “I’ll only be gone a couple of weeks.”

Around the corner in the hallway, Dean’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. You were _leaving_. You were leaving that night and you weren’t going to tell him goodbye. Had he really made you think that little of him?

He had followed you to your room earlier, watched you pack and wondered what for. Now he knew. 

Without warning he walked into the kitchen as if he had no clue about the conversation. “Hey.”

“You’re back,” Sam stated the obvious, noticing immediately something was wrong, but kept silent about it as he moved away from the stove. “Uh, I went ahead and added the sauce.”

“Yeah, thanks man.” Dean was furious with you. Not that he had any right to be and he knew it. Which only made it worse. He wanted a nickname. He wanted you to tell him goodbye, for you to tell him about your medical stuff. He wanted you to talk to him about books and movies and music and- well, everything. Yet all he had done was make everything worse and now, when he finally decides to show you he wants you- _needs_ you, really- you’re leaving. For two whole weeks. He was going to lose his mind without you around. It was hard enough making you partner with Sam on hunts. At least in those situations he would be within hearing distance. But Denver?

“Spaghetti will be done soon, y/n, if you want some,” Dean said, unable to face you. 

_If you wanted some?_ Of course you wanted some. There was no way even Dean didn’t know spaghetti was your favorite food of all time. Actually, maybe there was a chance he didn’t know. Considering he always seemed to go out of his way to ignore you.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll go clean up real quick,” you said, slipping out of the kitchen. Sometimes Dean could seriously be frustrating. Maybe it was time you started thinking about leaving the Winchester’s bunker permanently. Obviously only one brother wanted you there, as much as you wished it wasn’t so, and it wasn’t the one in charge.

“That was-”

“A disaster, Sam. A complete and total disaster.”

“Well, as long as you-”

“Know? Yeah, I know. I heard every freakin’ word, Sam. Every. Word.”

“Oh. It’s only for a couple of weeks, Dean.”

“Only!? I’ve already wasted five months! Possibly ruined any chance I have.”

“I doubt that. Y/n’s naturally forgiving. We can come up with a plan while she’s gone. A whole new Dean.” Sam moved his hand in front of him as if he was reading the words in the air.

“Or we could follow her and make up a plan on the way.” Dean poured the sauce in with the noodles and started mixing aggressively.

“Follow her?”

“Yeah. To Denver.”

“You mean St. Louis.”

“No,” Dean shook his head. “I mean Denver. That’s what she said.”

“Yeah, but she was lying. You’d know that if you were in the room with us earlier. There’s no way she’s going to Denver.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Dean whisper-hissed as he heard you walking their direction from down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~

Both Winchesters were sleeping as you tiptoed through the halls. You had put your bags in your old Wrangler while Dean finished up the spaghetti. And by bags, you meant all of them. You were leaving the Winchesters for good. Never to return. You were sad about not telling Sam to his face, but a letter would have to suffice. There was no way you were going to go one more day in Dean’s presence. You have no idea what you ever did to him, but that man _really_ didn’t like you. He only tolerated you because you and Sam got along so well and you knew it. But now you had to go to your yearly check-up with Doc.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, shaking his brother awake. They had decided after dinner to head out after you in the morning. Sam had put a tracking device in your phone the first week you stayed at the bunker. So following you would be easy. “Dean! Wake up! She’s gone. Like _gone_ gone.”

“Gone?” He shot up, clothes still on from yesterday. He didn’t want to waste even a second when they were to head after you.

“Yeah, she left a letter. Dude, she really thinks you hate her.”

“Give me that,” he snatched the paper out of Sam’s hand and sat up to read.

_Sam,_

_I’m sorry, but this is a permanent goodbye. I know we get along splendidly and you make me feel very welcome, but Dean can’t stand me. I’m done making him feel uncomfortable in his own home. For that’s exactly what the bunker is for you guys._

_I’ll miss you Tallboy. I hope you both live long lives like you’re meant to because the world would be nothing without you guys. Be careful out there. Maybe someday we’ll meet up again._

_Thanks for everything,_

_Y/n_

_P.S. Let me know if you find my book_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER!


	3. Plan in Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: LAST CHAPTER! YAY! I hope you like it so far!

“You have one minute until I haul ass outta here.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to take the letter back as he marched out to the garage, your book in hand. He had packed his duffel and checked that Baby had a full tank last night. Nothing was going to stop him from getting you back. Not even his slow-poke brother.

Slamming the door shut, Dean sat in the Impala and stared at your letter. His watery eyes blurring the words on the scrap piece of paper you left. You  _ left _ . You were gone. And you didn’t plan on coming back. And worse, he was the reason why. He was so afraid of losing you to monsters, but this was worse. He lost you not because you were forced, but because you  _ willingly  _ left. All because of him.

“Ready?” Sam asked as he got in the car.

“Yeah,” Dean wiped his eyes, put your letter in the book and set it carefully beside him. It was all he had left of you and he hoped he would be able to give it back, but right now the world was bleak. And he knew it would stay that way until he found you and brought you home.

“I was right,” Sam chuckled, looking down at the tracking device. “She is heading to St. Louis.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, you gotta tell me,” Dean started after hours of silence. “How did you know she was gonna head for St. Louis.”

“I could tell she was lying, for one. For another, she grew up in that area. I noticed she only had a few more days worth of meds yesterday when I helped her look for the book. Afterwards, I looked up what the medicine was for and that’s how I found out she has MS. Also found out that St. Louis is where one of the best MS doctors in the U.S. has his practice. I figured she probably found out about her disease when her parents were still around and probably still goes on yearly check-ups with the same doctor.”

“So, you just found out yesterday that she’s sick?”

“Yeah.”

“And she didn’t tell you either?”

“Nope. Can’t blame her, though. I wouldn’t want other hunters thinking I couldn’t do the job.”

“Hm,” Dean grunted. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Looks like she’s staying at a motel close to the hospital here.” Sam pointed out of his window, still looking at the gps device tracking your phone.

“We’ll stay across the street then.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A few days had gone by and you had yet to hear from Sam. You guessed it was possible that he never got your letter, but doubted it. You had slipped it under his door. Maybe he was angry you didn’t say a real goodbye? You couldn’t fault him for it, yet you were still disappointed he didn’t contact you. You sighed. _ Ah well, _ now it was time to see the results of the MRI from the day before. And for that you needed a clear head.

“Miss y/l/n,” you heard the nurse call out. 

_ Time to hear the news, _ you thought, getting up to follow the nurse.

“He’ll be right in,” she informed, motioning for you to sit before closing the door after you. And she wasn’t wrong. Not five minutes later, Doc walked in.

“Y/n, how are you this morning?” Doc’s quiet voice didn’t bode well with you. Immediately, you knew he had bad news for you. He’s been your MS specialist for a few years now and every time you got worse, he sounded 20 years older and barely spoke above a whisper.

“What is it, Doc?” You asked, voice shaky. You would not cry, not here. Not now. You would wait until you were alone in the motel room across the street. Where nobody would see the tears stain your cheeks or hear your racking sobs.

“Your brain lesions, my dear,” he sighed, giving up all pretenses and looked you in the eye. He knew you preferred that. “They’ve grown and I counted at least five more on top of what you already have.”

“B-but I’ve been doing so good! I’ve been working out on a daily basis,” you rushed, “I take my meds. I’ve been doing everything you’ve told me to. Even the diet. I’ve been eating as healthy as I can.”

“What about stress?” He watched you closely. He was the only person, other than Sam and Dean, who knew exactly  _ what  _ killed your parents. He also told you not to involve yourself in getting revenge. But revenge you got. “Any new stressors in your life? Are you busier than usual? New job, maybe?”

Okay, so maybe it was true that you started hunting at least twice as much since you met the Winchesters. They were pros and knew exactly what to look for. Whereas you would go after anything and everything that even so much as hinted at the word ‘death’ or ‘attack’ in the papers. Needless to say, you wasted too much time wandering around before you ever caught the  _ real  _ weird stuff.

“No,” you lied and he knew it. Did your leg seem to get worn out faster? Maybe. Did your arm start feeling heavy more often than not recently? Also a possibility. Were you going to admit that? Of course not. Not to Doc, anyway.

“Y/n,” Doc sighed, his sad eyes conveyed exactly what he was thinking.

“Don’t,” you glared at him, daring him to continue. “I’m not gonna stop and you know it.”

“My offer still stands. You’re my goddaughter. I can take care of you. Let me-”

“No. I love what I do and I’m gonna do it for as long as I can. I know you just want to help and keep me safe, but this is my new normal. Please, don’t take that from me,” you almost begged and despite telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, traitorous tears started welling up in your eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, hating seeing you so upset. Doc thought of you as the daughter he never had. Those tears broke him every time. “But you have to promise to slow down a bit. And you’ll come stay with me when it becomes too much. Promise?”

You nodded, preferring not to voice the lie -considering you’ve been doing a lot of that lately. As if keeping silent made it not-so-bad.

“Good,” Doc nodded, turning to his computer and typing. “I’m upping your dosage. Keep exercising and eating healthy. Don’t be surprised if you have an attack sometime soon. And if you’re tired, rest. Don’t force yourself to keep going. It won’t help you in the long run.”

“Got it, Doc. Thanks,” you fled, ripping your new prescription from his hand before he could hug you goodbye. Because if you didn’t, you knew you’d stay in his arms forever, feeling safe. Feeling loved. But you had work to do. Monsters to kill.

But first, you wanted to go cry in peace.

You didn’t understand. Why did you have to have MS? Why were the lesions growing- multiplying? Why couldn’t you feel normal? Why was your body betraying you? _ It wasn’t fair _ . You thought you were going to be okay when you were first diagnosed. You knew your parents would always be there (or so you thought). You had known Doc since you were a baby. But then, not even six months after your diagnosis, your parents were ripped to shreds, hearts missing. That’s when you realized you might not be okay. Not without them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam and Dean had been waiting in a diner across the street for what seemed like hours before they saw those hospital doors burst open with you stepping out, looking about frantically, face red, hands wiping at your eyes. Dean didn’t even order a burger and fries. He couldn’t. Not until he knew you were okay. 

And right now, you did not look okay. 

Before Sam could stop him, Dean was out the door, running across the busy street. Not caring that he almost got run over at least two times. Not that he noticed. All he saw was you with tears streaming down your face. You, choking on air. You, collapsing to your knees.

His heart beat faster, pounded louder the closer he got to you. Yet his feet couldn’t move fast enough. His voice wasn’t loud enough.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t cry. Please, anything but tears,” Dean begged when he finally reached you. He slammed down on his knees, facing you. Grabbing your face, he thumbed away the tears.

They kept coming anyway. You couldn’t even see him through the tears. You didn’t feel anything. It took everything you had not to lay down. All of what little strength you had at the moment. 

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay, Sweetheart. Do you hear me? We’re going to make it all okay,” Dean continued, grasping at straws. “We can find a witch or-or-” he picked you up, wishing more than ever that Cas was nearby as he searched for a more comfortable place to hold you. Somewhere not made of concrete. 

_ Baby _ . 

He ran back across the street- this time making sure the street was clear of maniac drivers- beelining it for the Impala. Once Dean had you settled in the back seat, he joined you. Setting you in his lap, wiping tears, hushing you quietly. Wishing he could do something-  _ anything-  _ to make it all go away.

You didn’t even notice.

After a while, once your eyes dried and the sniffles were down to a minimum, you realized the car you were in was familiar, but most definitely not yours. In fact, it was  _ too  _ familiar. And it was not supposed to be anywhere near you. Even worse was the man watching you with worried, tender eyes. Eyes that had never looked at you like that before. To your knowledge anyway, and you couldn’t seem to drag your eyes away from them.

“Dean?” Your face scrunched in confusion. "What's going on? Is there a case?"

“No,” he shook his head, voice low and scratchy.

“Then,” you tried getting up off his lap, but he held on with an iron grip, refusing to let you go. You huffed out a sigh and settled back in. You knew better than to argue with that hold. “Then why are you here?”

“For you. We’re taking you home.”

“We?” You squeaked out. “Home?”

“Yes. Me. You. And Sam. We are all going home,” he paused, making sure you understood. When it didn’t instantly hit home, he continued. “Together.”

“Why? You, uh-” Tearing your eyes away, ashamed of almost admitting he  _ kinda  _ hated you.

“The spaghetti was for you,” he blurted. Your head snapped up, confusion writ all over your face, heart fluttering furiously.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice husky as he rested his forehead against yours, you were instantly motionless. Every fiber in your being suddenly Dean-sensitive. “I never meant to make you think I hated you. I just-” he audibly swallowed. “I just...I’m a magnet for death. I didn’t want you hurt, so I stayed away. I was so scared-”

“You don’t hate me?” You asked as your wide, hopeful eyes stared up at him.

“Never.”

“What is it?” You asked, noticing a thoughtful expression flit across his face. You followed his gaze to a familiar object you once thought lost.

“Does she die?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Truth: when I wrote this, my doctor thought I had MS. Thankfully, I do not. I have something much easier to deal with :) so yay! Except...I can't have caffeine anymore :( but that's okay, I didn't drink soda much anyway :) Sshh! Don't tell them I will still have small soda every once in a while! ;)
> 
> I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you like it so far! No worries! Two more chapters coming up!


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